


Breathing and Dying

by QuickSilverFox3



Series: Whumptober 2019 [19]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Asphyxiation, Gen, Past Abuse, Whump, Whumptober 2019, restricted breathing, working through past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 19:17:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21123866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickSilverFox3/pseuds/QuickSilverFox3
Summary: Cullen recalls a trick to tracking escaped mages and works on some issues





	Breathing and Dying

**Author's Note:**

> [ My Tumblr!](https://inkformyblood.tumblr.com) Requests are always welcome!

The hardest part was fighting through his body’s natural urge, pushing through the tightness in his chest as long as he possibly could. Each time was different, cheeks wet with involuntary tears, throat red raw from gasping coughs until Cullen thought he would choke on it.

They didn't mention it to potential recruits, not until the Knight Commanders were sure they wouldn't leave, so committed to the cause that it didn't seem unusual, was just another weapon in a Templar's arsenal. It had to kept secret, had to be kept out of the ears of the normal population and so the mages wouldn't, couldn't know.

Cullen gasped for breath, leather gloves sticking to his sweat soaked skin. One more time, once more.

The mages knew they could be tracked through their phylactery. Nothing more than a thimble full of blood, battering against the walls of the glass vial, longing for freedom even if the original mage claimed they didn't. They knew templars could sense the strange pulse of their magic, lyrium running through the mages as it ran through the templars. But it was an infection in the templars, a growth sickening them from the inside out until it drove them mad with longing.

Cullen knew where his lyrium was at all times. The powder called to him, similar to how the Darkspawn sang to the Wardens. Magic was reduced to a dull headache, an itch lodged under his skin but the lyrium sang. 

The mages could be tracked through their breath, lyrium clustering on the air like a trail, leading the Templars with the unwavering accuracy of a mabari hound. That one mage, Anders, tried every way to escape: swimming across the Lake Calenhad, faking an illness, jumping from an open window, and many more that Cullen didn't know. But every time he was caught, his very breath betraying him.

And so, Cullen sat, wedged underneath his desk, head resting just next to his lyrium, feeling it's call like a heartbeat.

Once more. 

He drew a deep breath in, feeling his hands shake. And held it, teeth clenching together hard enough that his jaw creaked. His chest felt tight immediately, but he could ignore it for now. Footsteps echoed outside his tower, muffled voices, but they moved on. What would the men think? He was meant to be this imposing Commander and yet here he was. His heartbeat echoed in his ears, pressure in his chest. His throat contracted, Cullen fighting against the urge to breathe. Just a bit longer, just a little bit longer, then he would be safe. No-one could find him. He'd be safe.

The air burned as he gasped, tears streaming down his face, spit drooling from his mouth, too focused on breathing to care. It was a dangerous balance, eyes bloodshot and face pink, but he couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop. Had to keep himself safe, now more than ever.


End file.
